


Anomaly

by doodles-foodles (Forianna)



Category: Undertale, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Other, Self Insert Fic, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-04-27 03:58:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5032846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forianna/pseuds/doodles-foodles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regardless of cycle, the kid had never once mentioned their sibling.</p>
<p>“Why worry about it”, Sans huffed to himself as he flopped heavily onto his messy bed.</p>
<p>"They'll never show up here anyway..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a slow burn romance fic between Sans and the Reader. Reader is written as female. Smut to come with time.
> 
> I've also posted this on my blog, over at doodles-foodles.tumblr.com ! Check me out when you've got a second! :D
> 
> Hope ya'll enjoy <3

Regardless of cycle, the kid had never once mentioned their sibling.

Frisk first mentioned their “sissy” in a moment of startled pain in a spaghetti cooking lesson with Papyrus. His younger brother was just demonstrating the best way to stir with all your might, sending al dente noodles in every conceivable direction, when some boiling water sploshed from the foaming pot and left Frisk tearing up and scalded. When Papyrus, alarmed at the child’s sudden reaction, asked what he, the Great Papyrus, could do to help, Frisk whispered, “well, my sissy always kisses it to make it better.”

All the while the taller skeleton questioned the healing powers of “kisses”, Sans was left dumbfounded. A sister? Frisk had a sister? He’d been through so many resets he couldn’t count them anymore, but they had to be in the thousands now, and this was the first time Frisk mentioned their sibling? How could that be?

With the now comforted child snuggled up on the sofa and on their way to sleep, Sans was left to imagine this mystery sibling in his room. While Frisk slept soundly in their living room, the elder Skeleton brother was up all night worrying about an outside force he hadn’t known about until now. Who was this person? Were they worried? Terrified? Crying themselves to sleep every night of every cycle? Aware that time kept looping and that a cosmic force beyond their control would always keep them from finding someone so precious to them? Surely they were out searching for the child…that’s what he’d be doing at least.

“Why worry about it”, he huffed to himself as he flopped heavily onto his messy bed. Talking to himself his room was one of his last ways to keep himself sane. At least it felt that way.

“They’ll never show up here anyway.”

 

* * *

 

Frisk tugged an eager Papyrus towards the snowy fields outside of Snowdin the next day. A “snowball fight” was on the docket for the day. Sans sat back against a tall tree, an easy grin on his face, and this time around it was nothing he had to force. These were the days he treasured. He never knew how a cycle would go, but this time around he’d been lucky. Frisk wasn’t knife happy, Papyrus was alive, and when judgement day would come (if it would come) it was looking like he wouldn’t have to go through hell. **  
**

“Nye he he!”, Papyrus crowed as he chucked another snowball which found it’s target in Frisk’s side. “I should show these skills to Undyne! Maybe she would create a new snowball unit in the royal guard! I would be the leader of that unit, naturally.”

Everything was good. Everyone was happy this time around. Happy times like these had just depressed him in previous cycles. The inevitability of a reset pissed him off and had made him one hell of a bitter nihilist. That was for the first two thousand resets, give or take. Nowadays he just appreciated the good times while they lasted.

“Sans!” Papyrus was waving enthusiastically for him. It looked like Frisk had held their own; they were equally covered in snow.

“Go get us lunch, will you? I want spaghetti!”

Sans scoffed and pushed himself up from the ground, dusting off the loose snow that clung to his shorts. “Gotcha bro, hotdogs it is.”

Sans could hear Papyrus grumbling as he walked towards Snowdin village, his grin growing with each half hearted insult that followed him.

This was a great cycle.

 

* * *

 

He’d only been gone for five minutes tops, but when he was returning he heard frenzied shouting. There was that uncomfortable buzzing at the base of his skull, a internal alarm that began blaring when he made out Papyrus’ voice above all others. **  
**

The stout Skeleton broke out in a run, a scowl replacing his grin. No, no no no, not now, not when everything was going fine. So much was strange about this cycle, he should have know it was some sort of sick joke.

The first thing he saw was Papyrus. His brother was completely untouched, that was the first thing he noticed. A little of his panic ebbed away. The closer he got, the more confusion filled him, until he was nearly at his younger brother’s side. Then-

Then he couldn’t believe his eyes.

Sans came skidding to halt besides Papyrus. Frisk was a short distance away, but that wasn’t the upsetting thing. There was someone else there. A human. A much bigger human. They were standing in front of Frisk, and if looks could kill then they’d both be dead where they stood.

“What the hell is going on here?! Who the h–”

Frisk tugged on the taller human’s sleeve, a worried expression plastered on their face. The human wasn’t noticing.

“They’re my friends sissy, please, they’re okay,” the child babbled quickly. Sans felt like he’d had a ton of bricks dropped on his head.

“Sissy?”, Papyrus stuttered out, suddenly all wobbly knees and elbows. “This is your–”

“Sister.”, Sans whispered in disbelief. His jaw hung open, eyes wide. This was too much. He’d only discovered this mystery sibling in this cycle. And now they were here? What were the chances of that? Astronomical. Damn near impossible, but…not altogether improbable.

The apparent elder sister turned to their younger and frowned. It was clear they didn’t believe the child. Who could blame them, Sans supposed. Meeting monsters for the first time must be a hell of a pill to swallow, let alone finding your baby sibling playing with a Skeleton clad in a speedo.

“So you’re not hurt?”, she asked quietly. At least she was calming down it seemed. Her fists were still clenched, but only at her sides now. “They haven’t attacked you?”

“Oh no, the tiny human is our prisoner!”

Fucking. Papyrus.

Sans grinned and held up his hands defensively, an uneasy laugh slipping between his teeth as he stepped forward to do damage control. “He’s just pullin’ your leg, buddy.”

The human was glaring at him again. Sans really didn’t wanna have a bad time today.

The skeleton extended his hand with an introduction. “Name’s Sans, buddy. Come on, don’tcha know how to greet a new pal?”

The human didn’t even try to hide her frown. Granted it wasn’t an expression of disgust, or at least it didn’t look like Frisks’ past expressions of disgust. Just a frown. The smaller human helped his cause by darting around from behind their older sibling and latching onto the hem of his jacket. Frisk smiled up at him before frowning at their sister in a way that clearly communicated ‘well? Aren’t you going to shake his hand?’

The older sister’s shoulders sagged in defeat. Man, wasn’t it amazing that that particular expression worked on all older siblings, regardless of species? She reached forward and took Sans handshake, returning it with a firm grip and stern expression.

“Well then, I suppose it’s nice to meet you Sans.”

Sans heaved a sigh of relief.

‘Thank goodness’, he thought to himself.

He didn’t have to have a bad time.


	2. Burnt Noodles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've got a lot questions. You keep them all to yourself. That can't be healthy...can it?

You were shaking a skeletons hand. A skeleton. Not a skeleton inside of a body, as you were accustomed to meeting them. But an actual live skeleton, dressed in oddly normal clothing if you ignored the slippers covered in snow.

 

He looked incredibly uncomfortable. He was wearing a grin that was painful to look at and for whatever reason it looked like he was sweating. Was that even possible? Can a skeleton sweat? You must have frowned again because the skeletons smile got wider.

 

Oh, that’s right, he said his name was ‘Sans’. Well, Sans was very clearly uncomfortable with this whole situation. Good, you thought offhandedly, that makes two of you. Frisk had been missing for days, and if you hadn’t stumbled across their footprints under the brush you never would’ve found the entrance to this crazy place. How did your little Frisk even survive that fall? It had taken every ounce of your will power to look down the gaping maw, let alone shimmy down some vines and inevitably fall into the abyss. You’d been knocked out, that was for certain, and you distinctly remember waking up in a bed of yellow flowers.

 

Meeting the goat woman had been a life changing experience to say the least. Toriel was easy to like, even if she turned everything you knew about the world on it’s head. She’d given you pie, showed you a book all about snails, even promised bug hunting trips.

 

When it came time to leave, however, that’s when things became scary. She threw fire and threats of death beyond the doors of her ruins. That only filled you with more determination to pass. Frisk was beyond those doors. You had to get to them.

 

No one was hurt at the end of it all, thank goodness. She let you pass but demanded you never come back, not that it would be hard to obey. If your only way to Frisk and the world up top was forward, you wouldn't think twice about returning to Toriel's home.

 

You had to get out of this crazy place. Frisk must be scared out of their mind...all that filled your head were images of your younger sibling being cornered by some horrible monster.

 

Yet there Frisk was, hugging a skeleton like it was the most natural thing in the world. Well, you supposed it wasn’t so strange. You’d always known Frisk to be a loving kid.

 

“Sans, I do not see our lunch,” Papyrus broke into the silence. Sans flinched away from you then, startled out of his own uncomfortable aura, and his hands were stuffed quickly into his pockets.

 

Sans just shrugged, one hand reaching to scritch the back of his skull. Frisk lept up, their hands easily circling the puffy jacket clad arm (you suppose it's his bicep...if he had biceps...), and swung with a giggle. The little one's easy attitude towards the whole situation seemed to calm the shorter Skeleton, his smile much more genuine as he lifted his arm higher, making Frisk squeal with delight. Clearly Frisk is comfortable with these people.

 

They couldn't be all that bad, could they? They were just a pair of Skeletons. Animated, talking, clothes-wearing skeletons.

 

Skeletons who had taken very good care with your sibling. Skeletons who were their playmate, caregivers, doing your job of protecting them from the world. Skeletons who Frisk smiled at and laughed with and who received smiles in kind.

 

No. They couldn’t be all that bad.

 

You all began walking to what you assumed was the brothers home. The snow covered roof’s began appearing over horizon and you were floored when seeing Snowdin village. Monsters had social structures? A society in general? Why wouldn't they. You resign yourself to a general cluelessness during your stay in the Underground.

 

Frisk slowed until they were at your side and latched onto your hand like it was any other day, or like you two  were in any old place. Hell, with as relaxed as your younger sibling was the two of you might as well have been grocery shopping. You stared at the child whose hand was slipped into yours; you cradled that tiny, fragile, breakable, loveable hand like the priceless treasure it was.

 

Frisk smiled up at you, a beam of sunshine that made you smile back without a second thought.

 

“You’re gonna love it, sissy. There’s a comfy couch, and Sans has a pet rock, and Papyrus makes spaghetti all the time,” Frisk continued on and on with their litany of their favorite things at the brother’s house. It finally sinks in that your sibling is really and truly safe, and moreover happy with their current predicament. The true state of things was miles away from the horrors you imagined. You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, the edges of your vision becoming a watery blur.

 

When you glance up you see Sans watching you, a wary grin plastered on his face. You give him a small smile and silently mouth the words, “thank you.”

 

His expression softens, and you're struck with how different he looks when he finally seems to relax. All he gives you is a nod  before returning to forward facing and leading the way home.

 

* * *

 

  
  


You were sat awkwardly on a worn sofa that had a distinct odor of spaghetti. You were staring at blank screen and hearing a skeleton gush about his favorite “MTT program”, whatever that was. It was getting increasingly hard to relax in the brothers home. Every little thing about their home was so...normal. Yes, there was a pet rock practically drowning in sprinkles and a sock covered in post it notes, but overall this home didn’t look very different from your own.

 

Honestly, what had you expected? Cobblestone, bars, and rusted chains swinging from the ceiling?

 

It didn’t seemed farfetched before. Now it was quite obviously the furthest thing from the truth.

 

Frisk and Sans were sat at the dinner table, each with an empty dinner plate in front of them. Had your kid sibling been living off of spaghetti for four days? When would malnutrition set in? You wracked your brain for all that nutrition information you had glossed over in health class back in your high school days.

 

The duo were playing a rousing game of tic-tac-toe, and you could hear Papyrus lamenting his repeated defeats. Frisk was having fun at least. The tall skeleton demanded a rematch and you watched Frisk carefully draw out the grid. If tic-tac-toe was so interesting, what would Papyrus think of other mundane human games you’d always take for granted? Like Mancala? Or Nine Men's Morris? Or, God forbid, Monopoly?

 

Suddenly the TV sparked to life, tacky theme music blaring and making you nearly jump out of your skin. All of a sudden the couch was filled with Papyrus and Frisk. The three of you weren’t squished together or anything like that, but...well, dammit, you weren’t used to a skeleton outside of a human body.

 

You feel increasingly uncomfortable with all the jokes you’re not meant to get. It was the first time you were an outsider looking in; it made you realise how you’d taken your “normality” for granted. Papyrus cackled and kept slapping his bony knee with each joke that went right over your head. Frisk wasn’t bothered, of course, they were just smiling and enjoying the company.

 

You suddenly wish you could afford to have your younger sibling’s carefree attitude.

 

“Gonna go get a glass of water.” You mutter the lie awkwardly as you pull yourself from the sofa. Papyrus and Frisk barely look up to watch you wander into the kitchen. There were dishes still messy from dinner. Mundane chores would at least keep your hands busy, you thought as you carried the two empty plates to the sink. You go for the pot and find a thick layer of charred noodles stuck to the bottom. You flip the pan by it’s still warm handle in one hand, the other grabbing for what you assumed was a bottle of bright orange liquid soap.

 

“Heat was too high,” you say to yourself as you you add the soap and hot water to the carbon crusted pan. It takes a good deal of scrubbing and soaking and scrubbing again to remove any traces of burnt pasta, but you feel like you worked out some of your frustration. You look around the kitchen, desperately hoping there would be more to occupy your time. To your annoyance, everything is quite orderly and clean. You let out a little sigh as you resign yourself to returning to living room, but when you turn to leave you find Sans standing in the entry way.

 

His sudden appearance makes you jump, one hand flying to your chest. The stout skeleton holds one finger to his mouth and you stop the gasp that almost slips past your lips. You cautiously look past him to see Papyrus and Frisk, snuggled up and sleeping easily on the sofa.

 

“You’ve been workin’ at those dishes for an hour,” Sans whispers, leaning against the archway. How long had he been standing there? “You got a personal vendetta against grease?”

 

You shake your head. Was he trying to make fun of you? Or was it just easy banter? You don’t know what to do with your hands; you fidget and tug at your fingers for a few awkward moment before stuffing them in your pockets. The silence between you is thick; something so palpable you feel it in the stagnant air. Sans is staring at something on the far wall, that uncomfortable grin returning. You’re staring at the sink, wishing lightning would strike you if only to get you out of all this awkwardness.

 

“Did you get anything to eat?” You realise you hadn’t. How long had it been since you had eaten? You had saved that slice of pie Toriel had given you back in the ruins, but since then you’d been too frenzied to feel your stomach protest it’s emptiness. As if on queue your tummy lets out and embarrassing gurgle. Your eyes instantly meet Sans, each of you wearing dumbfounded expressions, until his melts into an easy grin.

 

“Come on, I know a place.”

 

He turns to leave. You hesitantly follow as he stands in the dim living room, one bony hand on the door knob.

 

“And they’ll be okay?”, you ask quietly, dipping to whisper where his ear would be if he were human. It was his turn to jump at your sudden presence. He turns and smiles stiffly, a few of those strange beads of sweat appearing on his domed skull.

 

“They’ll be fine.” The reassurance is said so simply you feel you can trust him.

 

With one more quick glance to Papyrus and Frisk snoozing against each other on the sofa, you follow Sans out the door and into the snowy night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! See you in the next chapter!


	3. Impromptu Night Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't want leftover spaghetti? Sans knows a place.

Sans had been watching for quite a while, as it turns out. He’d snuck down stairs, just as his brother and the kiddo were dozing off, and heard the soft clatter of dishes in the kitchen. Now, if he had caught you snooping around (knowing there was nothing really to find), he wouldn’t have left you in peace. To find you cleaning up after his brother and your sibling however...it made something flutter behind his ribcage. There was something painfully domestic about the whole scene he had discovered once he left the dark and messy sanctuary of his bedroom. He watched you work at the small disaster with a focus that was admirable considering the absurdity of the task; Sans kept at least fifty of the same pot under the floorboards of the garage so he wouldn’t have to bother wasting time with washing the ruined cookers. But you worked away until the abused cooking tool shined like new.

 

Sans found easy to watch you work. Granted, over the cycles he'd gotten used to watch Frisk from the shadows. He'd gotten quite good at it, too. And you never once noticed him standing there in the doorway.

 

When Sans finally spoke up it took all he had not to laugh at you. He desperately wanted to let loose a ridiculous pun about jumping out of your skin. The skeleton only kept it to himself because he didn't  want to wake the sleeping pair in the living room.

 

The skeleton was a little surprised when you followed so easily. He glanced back at you over his shoulder; there you were, trudging slowly through the snow with eyes downcast. You had to be exhausted. Sans knew he would be at his wits end if Papyrus had gone missing at such a young age. He knew he would've done whatever it took to get to his little brother, too.

 

Sans held the door open to Grilbys and damn near had to guide you through the open portal. You were so distracted you almost walked into the doorframe. The skeleton followed you to an empty booth, not his usual spot by any means, but nothing had been “usual” about this day.

 

“So then, what’ll it be buddy?” His voice seemed to startle you out of your own thoughts. Sans gave you a nervous smile as you looked around Grilbys, clearly disoriented. You looked downright exhausted. Instead of answering him you just slumped down further in your seat. The skeleton looked past you to Grilby who was in his usual spot behind the bar, giving him the signal for your usual order.

 

“How ya holdin’ up?” Sans asks you quietly. Grilbys is as crowded as ever, even in the middle of the night. You look up at him and meet his gaze full on for the first time since he surprised you in the kitchen. Sans can’t help but think your expression speaks for itself. You look a unsettling combination of terrified and confused. Dammit, you looked like you were about to cry. For whatever reason that last detail is what bothered Sans the most.

 

“All of this is real,” he hears you whisper, and it takes everything he’s got not to outwardly cringe. “And it’s not safe for human’s here, right? That’s what Toriel said back in the ruins, that some nut named Asgore would be out to kill us, take our souls, and--”

 

“I’m keepin’ an eye on the kid,” Sans reassures you quickly, his fingers knitting together under the table. He could see your panic rising. “Frisk’s gonna be alright.”

 

Your hand was across the table like lightning, open and waiting.

 

“Shake on it,” you demand.

 

“What?” The skeleton scratched the back of his skull and could feel his grin getting wider.

 

“Shake on it. Promise me you aren’t going to let anything happen to Frisk.”

 

Sans stared at you blankly for a few silent moments. Your gaze never wavered, and that lost expression was replaced by one of determination.  The skeleton could easily admit to himself that he much prefered this picture to the one of hopelessness he had seen a few moments ago. He reached out and took your hand for a second time that day.

 

* * *

 

 

You had had so many questions, Sans wasn’t sure where to start with his answers. Oddly enough, he didn’t feel as confident answering them as he would have in the past. So much about this cycle was different he wasn’t sure how accurate his answers would be.

 

Grilby brought out two burgers with fries and two bottles of ketchup. She dug in without waiting and that left the monster with a wide grin. He’d had a feeling you hadn’t eaten since falling into the Underground.

 

When Sans started openly taking swigs from his bottle of Ketchup, you didn’t bother to hide your confusion. This time around, he didn’t bother to hide his laughter.

 

“Aren’t you gonna start in on yours?” Sans was wondering if that hilariously confused expression was going to be permanent. The skeleton gives you a shit-eating grin before finishing, “You’re gonna have to _ketchup_ with me.”

 

There was silence again, but this time it wasn’t uncomfortable at all. You finally rolled your eyes heavenward and Sans gave you a lazy wink as you finally gave in a laughed at his stupid pun. He liked your laugh. It was good to hear after watching you stress all day long. Even when you weren’t so openly worried, he could see the tension you carried in your shoulders, the way you walked stiffly and deliberately.

 

“I’m sure you would _relish_ that,” you replied cheekily, a genuinely happy grin finally tugging at the corners of your mouth. Sans let out a bark of laughter and you laughed along with him. Why did he feel so comfortable with you? You were an outlier and San’s was certain this was the first time he had met you. So why was it he felt as ease around you? By all rights, you should be scaring the hell out of him; he had no idea how the story would go this time. But when you laughed it was easy to laugh with you, and when you smiled at him it made that uncomfortable flutter revive behind his ribs.

 

“So,” he hears you finally say, “we will be able to leave? I just have to talk to this Asgore guy?”

 

Oh.

 

“Y-Yeah.” Sans can feel pressure building in his skull. He doesn’t like where this is going. He wants to bust in with another stupid joke, but you beat him to the punch.

 

“And nobody’s gonna die? You’ve made him sound like a pretty reasonable guy. I’m sure if I can just make him see that we don’t wanna do any harm, we just wanna go...then everything will be alright. Right?”

 

Oh no. No, no no no, it doesn’t work that way.

 

“Yep,” Sans lies, gritting his teeth and grinning widely.

 

You smile at him, wide and beaming and so clearly full of hope. He smiles back, but in that way that makes him feel like scum inside.

 

The two of you pack your leftovers, and he asks Grilby to put it on his tab. Sans chugs down the rest of his ketchup and immediately after repeats the action with your mostly untouched bottle. You both say goodnight to Grilby, who silently waves to bid adieu.

 

The walk home is silent. The stones in the underground’s ceiling twinkled in what everyone assumed to be like stars. The human certainly seemed fascinated, and moreover, deeply impressed with how the Underground simulated the world above.

 

“You can’t even see stars this brightly in the night sky anymore,” Sans hears you whisper, as though speaking too loudly would wake the whole town. “Too much light pollution.”

 

“Light pollution? What’s that supposed to mean?” He glanced over to find you looking him. Sans felt that damn fluttery feeling again and squashed it down.

 

“Artificial lights leave too much light to properly see the night sky anymore, unless you’re in super rural areas.” He watched you stare at the distant ceiling and smile at the twinkle gems that glowed blue with magical light. “In the city, you’d never see a sight this beautiful.”

 

The monster turned his focus ahead of him. That flutter returned against his will. It felt like a damn froggit was trapped behind his ribs and trying to leap it’s way out. Another new thing to add to the checklist of ‘why this cycle is weird’.

 

Sans pushed into the house to find Frisk curled up in a ball on the sofa, covered with a blanket, and papyrus nowhere to be found. The skeleton figured his brother must have woken up and managed to drag his sorry-butt to bed. He went into the kitchen and threw the baggie of leftovers into the fridge (carefully avoiding all of Papyrus’ containers marked spaghetti), before heading upstairs to bed. At least, that had been the plan.

 

He was just about to make a bee-line for the stairs when you stopped him in his tracks. No physically, granted, but seeing you carefully brush Frisks bangs from their face and place a gentle kiss on their forehead made the chest-dwelling froggit leap like mad. The skeleton guessed your situations weren’t all that different; that you’d been left to tough it out and raise a kid, even though you weren’t done growing up yourself. That you’d done your best, you still were. That you would do whatever it takes to keep them safe.

 

“Thanks for tonight,” he hears you whisper.

 

“Yeah,” the skeleton mutters as he heads for the stairs. He’s halfway up the staircase before he turns around.

 

“Hey, uh--” Sans wants to tell you everything will be alright, that it’ll all work out in the end, but he can’t bring himself to say the words. “Let me know if you, uh, need anything, alright?”

 

“Alright, thanks Sans.” It’s the first time he can remember you saying his name, besides your awkward introduction this morning. You sound much more comfortable when you say it this time around. He finds he likes the sound of his name on your lips. “Good night.”

  
“Night, buddy.”


	4. Begin the Journey

Sleeping on floors was awful. Only now that you were waking up to the clatter of pots and pans did you remember why you reviled sleepovers as a child. Every part of you ached accept for that one arm you had pinned under you in your sleep which was full of stabbing wasps and pins and needles. You were chilled through, too.

 

Frisk was still snoozing on the sofa, all curled up in a thick comforter. You rubbed the remnants of sleep from your eyes. You pull yourself from the floor, your bones popping and snapping back into their proper places. You wandered into the kitchen to see Papyrus placing an empty pan on the stove top, a box of spaghetti waiting on the countertop.

 

“Ah! Good morning Human!” Papyrus’ might as well have shouted his greeting. You flinched away from the loudness, your shoulders jumping to your ears. “I hope you’re ready for your breakfast spaghetti! It’s the most important meal of the day!”

 

Well, you couldn’t say he wasn’t dedicated to his craft. He sure did like spaghetti. You took a seat at the kitchen table, immediately flopping down against the cool table top. You start a mental list of everything Sans had taught you last night. He seemed pretty clueless about the majority of your questions. At the very least the Skeleton seemed confident that if you sought Asgore out he’d give you a chance to explain your situation.

 

You resolved to push ahead. You’d leave Frisk here, where you were confident they’d be safe, and search out the king of the Underground.

 

“Hey Papyrus,” you mutter, “do you have, like, a map of the Underground?” The tall skeleton makes a curious hum, but his attention was entirely focused on furiously stirring his pasta. “I, uh...I’ve just gotta find somebody. Gotta get Frisk back home eventually, yeah?”

 

Papyrus hummed again but clearly wasn’t listening. The constant hum he was making was becoming more manic as he stirred harder and harder until noodles began flying out of the flaming pot. It suddenly became painfully clear why there was such a charred mess at the bottom of the pot; he somehow cooked these noodles with only a few drop of water that had evaporated long ago.

 

You push back from the table and turn to leave and find Sans where he was last night, occupying the entryway to the kitchen. He was wearing that uncomfortable grin again.

 

“I’ll take you to him,” he says before you can even get your ‘good morning’ out. You heave a sigh of relief and give Sans a smile; you think to yourself that you’re quickly finding a friend in this short skeleton.

 

“You sure? Didn’t you say you had two jobs?”

 

Sans shook his head, that lazy expression finally wiping away his uncomfortable expression. “Eh, I can take a couple days off.”

 

You can feel your smile growing and you dodge around the dining table,  your arms immediately circling his shoulders. The monster seems startled by your sudden outburst of affection but gives you a friendly pat on the back, a chuckle rumbling through his chest. You didn’t realise how relieved you’d feel to know you wouldn’t be making this journey alone.

 

You pull away like a bolt of lightning and Sans doesn’t bother to stifle his laughter. It’s good to see him so at ease. For whatever reason, you get the feeling it isn’t a sound he makes very often.

 

Frisk was suddenly attached to your leg, arms wrapped around the circumference of your thigh. They rubbed their sleepy face against you as they did almost every morning. You stooped to pick the child up carried them to the table. You wouldn’t normally spoil your sibling like this, but since you had a trip ahead of you that would apparently eat up a few on Sans’ work days you figured the doting was warranted. You settled Frisk in the chair you had occupied at the table and nearly on queue Papyrus settled a plate of undercooked noodles topped with veggies and sauce in front of them. You step back to the entry way and watch as Frisk slowly works away at the noodles on their plate. They were alright before you got there, and they’d be alright until you came back. There was no reason to worry.

 

Then what was that lingering feeling in the back of your mind? Why did you feel the need to hang around so long?

 

“Can we head out now?”, you ask quietly, hoping not to draw attention to yourself. You can practically feel Sans’ eyes on you, those pinpricks of light boring holes in the side of your skull. The monster hummed the affirmative but remained at your side. He was leaving it up to you make the first move. You were finding it impossible to tear  your eyes from your baby sibling; that feeling wouldn’t leave you. You were coming back. You were absolutely, positively coming back to get Frisk and take them home.

 

So why did it feel like this would be the last time you’d see them?

 

 

* * *

 

 

You finally turned to leave and Sans was on your heels. He watched you open the door, spine of steel, and leave without a word of goodbye before following suit. Trying to explain to Frisk that you’d be facing Asgore, when the child had already been warned against the monster king...well, needless to say, Sans didn’t doubt your wisdom in keeping that to yourself. There was no way Frisk wouldn’t want to follow.

 

You made it to the edge of town before Sans noticed your shoulders trembling. The motion was slight, barely noticeable, and was accompanied by a thoughtful silence. You were moving forward but it was clear that your attention was elsewhere. You seemed to trip forward a few times, which the pair of you ignored, but you finally slipped on a patch of ice and tumbled face-first into the snow.

 

“Whoa now, hey there buddy,” Sans laughed nervously and knelt beside you, a bony hand carefully gripping your shoulder. “You alright there?”

 

“Yeah,” the monster hears you mutter and when you look at him your smile is half-hearted. “Just got my head in the clouds.”

 

You both pressed on in silence after that, Sans walking just behind you and giving you abrupt instructions like “left here” or “your next right”. Then you reached waterfall, and it absolutely took your breath away. Sans watched you stare at the twinkling ceiling and carefully run your fingers over the petals of the echo flowers’, but barely stopping at each one to listen to their stories. ‘Determination must run in the family’, the skeleton muses to himself with a grin.

 

Sans didn’t have to intervene once while you finished the puzzles ahead of you with the single-mindedness of a dog looking for headpats. It was all too easy; the puzzles were essentially built for children, afterall. You were the first grown human to fall into the Underground that Sans could remember.

 

“Hey Sans,” Your voice interrupts his thoughts with a jolt and there you are, standing at his side and staring out ahead of you. Your face is in shadow and it’s only then that the skeleton remembers what’s in store. “Who’s that?”

 

A figure clad in armor blocks your way. One ominously glowing eye peers through a visor. Sans hears the deep hum of Undyne’s magic and before he can think twice about the potential consequences his fingers are around your wrist and he’s running faster than you  thought possible. He can feel your wrist pop beneath his fingers and for a moment he goes to slow down, but a spear flies past both of your heads.

 

He practically drags you along, your panting breaths following him, ragged and afraid. He finally reaches a stopping point and nearly throws you into the tall brush at the side of the path. He hears a “oof” woosh out of you and reeds snap beneath you. He’s on top of you then, the grasses folding around you, and his cold bony fingers clamped over your mouth.

 

The skeleton listened, ready to flee again at a moment's notice, as Undyne stomped by. He could feel both of your bodies go tense as the Captain of the Guard stopped short, panting heavily and snarling before continuing on. Sans could feel the seconds ticking by and was sure to count to sixty before he moved to get off you. When he tried to push away he found couldn’t, though.

 

He looked down to find you crowded against his chest, your face flush with the front of his jacket. One of your hands had his shoulder in a death grip and he could feel you trembling with your fear. You had even gone to the effort to curl up into him, the only support you had being a shaky arm that was ground into the soft dirt.

 

“Hey, uh...You, ah, good there buddy?”, Sans asked quietly. He had the urge to smooth his fingers over your hair but resolutely ignored it. Until you pulled away to look him in the eyes, and your expression of raw fear struck a nerve he didn’t know he had. He was angry now. So very angry. That expression tore at something and made a ball of iron burn in the back of skull.

 

“I’ve gotta get F-Frisk outta this place,” you whisper, your voice halting and pained. Sans gave into that earlier urge and ran his stark white phalanges through your tousled hair. You pressed your face back into his jacket and he felt something squirming where his gut would be. A stifled sob drifted up to him and it felt like the pitiful sound filled him with a fresh wave of anger.

 

In the end, Sans wasn’t sure how long the two of your spent huddled together in the tall grass. You had finally calmed down but refused to pull away. For whatever reason he had no inclination to let you go either. Even once you both stood to leave, he could constantly feel you press closed to his back, fingers gripping loosely at his sleeve.

 

The monster was paying closer attention, but knew there was no way to circumvent the events up ahead. Undyne would be waiting for the human. Her attack must be coming soon now. Sans was so used to only showing up when he knew he was needed that most of the journey was a blur. And when the magical spears began shooting from the floorboards of the bridge he was caught off guard.

 

Sans threw you out of the way of a spear that left the wooden walkway splintered and weak.

 

“Just run!,” Sans shouted out to you as you scrambled to your feet. Even now there were aqua circles appearing below your feet. “I’ll catch up to you!”  
  


You didn’t have to be told twice as a spear narrowly missed your right foot. With one last panic-stricken look Sans watched you flee down the path, dodging clumsily around magical spears that shot up from the bridge. The monster found his way around, leaping carefully over holes and avoiding Undyne’s attacks with ease, his eyes always following your escape.

 

He saw you skid to a halt and could feel a weight drop in his would-be gut; you were at the dead end. He could see you frantically looking for an escape as Undyne approached slowly, ominously. He was too far away to stop what happened next. He held in an angry shout as Undye struck a deathblow to the bridge, the entire structure jolting and then leaning under you.

 

“Dammit, no!” He shouted out and could feel his magic rising, burning at his eye socket and finger tips. To his horror, you met his gaze as the bridge finally began to crumble beneath you.

  
You reached out, his name on your lips, before he watched you plummet into the inky abyss.


	5. Undyne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Undyne gonna whoop you up and down that mountain

You woke up in a bed of golden flowers.

You groaned as you pushed yourself to your knees. When you tried to take a full step forward you felt a twinge in your knee that shot down your leg like fire, making you yelp. The pain was stabbing at you. You sunk back onto the flowers with a whimper, clutching at your injured knee. When you pull your hands away they come back red. Great. Just what you needed.

You stood again, being careful to favor your injured leg, and took in your surroundings. It was darker than before and you could hear the constant trickle of water. The air was stale, and the waters murkier than before. You carefully tried across what was left of the bridge, tilting precariously before finally giving in and trudging through the shin deep waters. You can feel your face twisting into a disgusted grimace as you passed a towering mound of garbage and came to terms with your current situation; you were wading through a sewer. Thank goodness you’d been so anal-retentive about getting all of your vaccines.

You wandered past a rusted out bicycle, a few torn-up dvd cases covered in faded pastels and anime eyes, and cooler that was strangely pristine. You didn’t bother dawdling in the sewers, especially when you heard something rustling behind you. You pushed ahead and once you felt safe enough you collapsed in a heap on the cool cavern floor. You lie for a few minutes, just letting yourself decompress.

You forced yourself to push on, knowing you couldn’t wait here for forever. Sans hadn’t caught up yet, and you worry that he’s too far behind to catch-up. You weren’t sure if you’d find your way to Asgore, but you weren’t going to sit still for too long, especially knowing you were being hunted by some spear-wielding nut.

It had become abundantly clear that, even if this king Asgore was a reasonable person, this was not a safe place to be. Your run in with the armored soldier only drove home how desperately you needed to get Frisk out of this place.

You pushed on with a limp, your head beginning to pound as a fierce gust of wind swept around you. Your hair and clothes billowed around you and you could feel electricity crackle through the atmosphere. You look into the distance and see a shadowy figure on a nearby cliff-face. You’d actually be impressed by the impressive sight if you didn’t recognize that armor.

The stranger turned dramatically, their helmet flying off to reveal a surprisingly beautiful...fish...woman? She had a shock of red hair that was bound in a ponytail and whipping wildly in the howling breeze, and a gaze that you couldn’t break away from.

“This feels...wrong, for some reason,” you can barely hear her mutter over the din, but before you can reply that ominous hum reverberates all around you. You take a step back, your knee protesting the sudden move. She held a glowing spear aloft, and you feel a terrified cry trying to claw it’s way out of your throat. “It can’t be helped. With your soul we’ll be able to return to the surface. I’ll know what the sunlight feels like. Our children will be able to wish on the actual stars…”

“Please!”, you finally managed to shout, you own voice sounding feeble to your ears. The warrior seemed to stare through you. You could recognize what they were preparing themselves for mentally; you weren’t a person, you were just an obstacle, a means to an end. “There’s someone dear to me trapped here, I just...I just have to get them out of this place, please, don’t--”

She leaped from the clifftop, the head of her spear trained on your midsection. You threw up your hands in self-defense, and then you feel the world shift under you. You don’t know how long you fly through the air. When you make contact with the world again it’s violent, your body slamming into a cliff wall and then tumbling down back to the gorge floor. You can hear the warrior approach, their heavy footsteps making the ground beneath you tremble. You’re disoriented and when you try to stand you crash back down to the cold ground, a gasping cough whooshing out of your lungs, leaving them burning in your chest. You cough and hack and whimper, your vision beginning to blur. You feel the pressure around you change, the air becoming thick and staticy, and you can hear footsteps on either side of you before your world goes black.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“What the hell, Sans?”

The Skeleton carefully stepped around you. He couldn’t bear to look at you on the ground, motionless as you were. The cycle hadn’t reset yet; you were fine, you had to be fine, at the very least you were alive. Sans looked up as Undyne took another step forward, his eye socket burning as magic warned the royal guard away.

“Come on now, Undyne,” he whispered, his voice deep and rough with that inexplicable anger. “Why d’ya gotta give her a hard time?”

“Are you kidding me?!” Undyne snarled, stomping her foot angrily. “Why the hell are you standing between me and our salvation? You know if we get that human’s soul we get to go free!”

“She wants to get to Asgore. I promised I’d take her there.” The monster could feel his grin widen, the threat clear as day. “You’re not gonna make me a liar, are you?”

“And when she gets to Asgore he’ll just kill her anyway!” The warrior threw her hands up in frustration, her power radiating and returning the threat in kind. “It would be kinder for me to destroy that flesh-sack now! Asgore will grind her into dust!”

Sans could hear the bones of his jaw pop, his teeth grinding together. “Then she’ll deal with that when she gets to Asgore. I promised I’d take her, and I will. Now,” a pulse of magic forced Undyne back, the scaled woman having to dig her heels in as she slid back a few feet. “Back off.”

There was tense silence, the only sound the howling winds all around. He’d never confronted the captain of the guard in a cycle before. It impressed upon him just how skilled Frisk was, what a danger the fearless child could potentially possess.

“You take her to Asgore. And if she kills him, I’ll come back and take both of your heads.” The threat was worthless, Sans knew. The cycle, while markedly different from others, would still end in a reset. The warrior would never know the difference.

“You got it, Stretch.” The agreement was given without hesitation. Undyne growled one last time before glancing at the seemingly lifeless body behind him. She looked as though she was about to say something, but turned before giving herself the chance and stalked away.

Sans finally turned to you then. You still hadn’t moved. He knelt carefully next to you and gave you gentle shake. You remained unconscious, and Sans finally felt true panic welling up inside. He gave a few more shakes, a desperate “Hey, come on buddy, we’ve gotta get goin’” slipping past chattering teeth before he carefully turned you over. His hands came away smeared with your blood, the scarlet shade stark against the white of his bones.

“Shit,” Sans hissed the curses as he scooped you up in his arms. “Shit, shit, shit, shit--”

He looked to the path ahead, knowing the Hotlands were in store and chalk full of puzzles and a grand ruse that he just didn’t have time for. With a deep breath he focused, the pressure shifting again, his eye socket and fingertips burning, before there was a loud pop in the back of his skull.

Sans wobbled, his knees threatening to buckle once the teleportation was complete, but immediately turned and ran into the doors of the MTT hotel. He thanked his lucky stones that one of the random extras he always kept stuffed in one of his many pockets was a hotel key-card he had nicked a few thousand cycles ago in case he needed a few days away from Papyrus. He pushed his way into the stairwell, taking the stairs two at a time until he reached the third floor.

It took a bit of tricky maneuvering, but once he slipped the key-card into its lock and the light flashed green, he burst into the dark room, the door slamming behind him. He grunted as he rammed his gut into a side sable he forgot was occupying the short hallway, one hand flailing for the light switch. He let out a loud expletive when he finally found the switch and a dim light washed over the dusty, unused space.

Sans tried to lay you down with as much care as he could manage, a pained groan escaping you when he jostled you a few too many times. ‘Thank God,’ he thought frantically. The monster was a flurry of activity as he stormed in the bathroom, searching desperately for a first aid kit, a bandage, damn near anything that could help. He came running back in when he heard you groan again, the sound thick in your throat.

“Hey there buddy, I gotcha, don’t worry about it,” he muttered too fast for you to likely hear, a stack of towels in his hands. He was next to you in seconds, dabbing away at your obvious wounds. Almost all your injuries were superficial, save for a nasty gash on your knee and a fair sized cut on your head. You were gonna need help, and none that he would really know how to give you.

At least the cycle was almost over.

He tore one towel into two strips, wrapping one around your knee and the other carefully around your head. You were muttering all the while, barely distinguishable words between groans and whimpers. The monster was so...so...so full of something he hadn’t felt before. It wasn’t like when Papyrus got hurt or threatened in cycles past; he was always braced for that terrible impact. No, this was something that seared like iron against his sides, crawled up his spine and made his joints ache with his anger and worry. He never wanted to see you like this again, and yet he desperately wanted the cycle to end just so you two could spend too much time at Grilbys, or hear you laugh till you cried at his shitty jokes. He didn’t want to closely examine the emotions that had him thinking these ludicrous thoughts; he wanted to get a million miles away from them and back to being lazy.

He heard you whisper his name, a weak “S-Sans” pulling him from his thoughts. He could feel his grin was too wide and over-sized beads of sweat slipping down the sides of his skull. The monster shushed you gently, shedding his jacket and draping it over you instead of moving the coverlet out from under you.

“You get some sleep, babe,” he whispered softly to you, leaving your side only to climb on your opposite side, settling back against the headboard with one pink slippered foot crossing over the other.

“But….gotta get--” One finger pressed softly to your lips and he couldn’t help the small grin he wore as you gave up fighting. He watched you out of the corner of his eye till you fell asleep, waiting for the sure signal of your chest rising and falling slowly before he bothered to give up the ghost himself and finally get some shut eye.

Tomorrow. This cycle would likely end tomorrow. And knowing what was waiting ahead of you both…

 


	6. Dinner

When you woke everything hurt. You started to sit up but it felt like every inch of your body protested. You opened your eyes and found a dusty white ceiling washed yellow by a cheap motel bedside lamp. You turned your head one way; a bedside table with a sloppy stack of towels, and the source of the soft yellow light. You turned your head the other way, and your breath caught in your throat. Sans was sleeping softly, turned on his side and facing you. You could see his chest and shoulders rising and falling, as though he were breathing deep like any other person would. You knew that wasn’t possible, or at least you hoped it wasn’t; otherwise the brothers true reason for wearing clothing was to hide their exposed internal organs.

Sans was missing his jacket. You found that odd, but you found seeing him more clearly much more fascinating. Your eyes traveled over his hands and wrists, up the gentle curves of his Radius and Ulna where his humerus disappeared into the sleeves of his dull white t-shirt. You could see the hem was ruscked up his middle and the bottom few ribs, spine, and the crest of his hipbones were exposed.

“Enjoying the view?” Your gaze snaps up and you’re met with a sly grin and half-lidded, sleepy eyes. You can feel heat spreading across your face and crawling up your neck. He softly chuckles, the sound rolling through his chest like distant thunder.

“Dirty tease,” you whisper back, hugging his jacket tight around you as though that would hide your embarrassment. His grin only widened. You two simply laid in silence, staring at each other with sleep addled eyes. You shivered, a chill running up your spine. Sans seemed to hesitate before wordlessly extending an arm. You raised your eyebrows, clearly questioning, and he just nodded you over. He kicked the covers down as you scooted into his careful embrace, the duvet sliding over you both as you settled in the crook of his arm. You both knew he wouldn’t provide any warmth, but that wasn’t what this was about. He knew you had gone through hell. He’d somehow pulled you out of it, gotten you some place safe. Sans was offering you comfort which you sorely needed. You weren’t about to ignore his invitation; on the contrary, you were going to eat up these moments and not soon forget them.

“How’re you feeling?” You can feel the words rumbling through him. His voice was deep and rough from sleep, gravely and warm and giving you the urge to snuggle closer. You gave in to that particular urge. He certainly didn’t push you away.

“Feel like I’ve just run a marathon,” you grumble in return, but there’s a smile on your face. “But that’s a hell of a lot better than feeling dead, right?”

His fingers grip more tightly where they rest at your arm. When you look up his eyes are locked you, those pinpricks of light piercing you through and through. You feel as though he can somehow see more than you can. The skeleton could read between the lines and see the hidden texts that you wouldn’t be able to find in a million years. “Don’t say that, yeah?” His voice sounds so distant. His expression is so serious you easily relent, nodding a few times before allowing yourself to relax. You feel his grip loosen, but that same disturbed expression remained.

“Get some sleep, okay?” He was about to run his fingers over your hair, but his hand jerks to a stop and it returns to its previous place at the top of your arm. You give him a smile and snuggle in close, holding back a giggle when a strangled ‘oh’ forces it’s way past his teeth. He finally relaxes again, both of you sinking against the mattress. You can feel the heavy curtain of sleep tugging on you again, trying to pull you under, and you don’t have the energy to fight it.

“You too, okay Sans?”, you mutter sleepily with a wide yawn. “Goodnight.”

“G’night, babe.”

 

* * *

 

Sans couldn’t sleep. Not with you pressed so close.

You had fewer inhibitions in your sleep. It didn’t take long for an arm to be slung over his chest, and a leg draping both of his. He supposed there were much worse situations than being stuck under a cute girl. You made him feel…different. He’d been in these situations with people before; he was a healthy monster with a healthy appetite, so to speak. But he’d never felt so giddy just being close to another person before. You grumbled in your sleep and scooted closer. He elected not to move out of your way, your bodies pressed closer than before. Your warmth radiated through your clothes and seeped into his bones.

You feel solid and safe against his side. You’re alive, thank God, you’re so alive that your grumbling and shifting and poking and prodding and he hadn’t been so terrified in so long, he still couldn’t process how much fear had gone through him to find you lying motionless on the gorge floor. He turned his head and pressed his teeth to your forehead; you nuzzled closer in your sleep. He didn’t want tomorrow to come. He didn’t want to force the cycle to end and send you on to your death. There was no way you’d stand a chance against Asgore. Even if you did, Sans had a feeling you couldn’t be pushed to kill the king.

Well that wasn’t true at all he thought half heartedly, a bitter grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.‘You’d do anything to protect Frisk, wouldn’t you…’

 

* * *

 

You woke up alone. Sans was gone, at least from where you’d last seen him. It hit you that you’d gone to bed with a skeleton. What the hell had come over you? It’s not as though you had ever been attracted to skeletons in your life before the Underground. What made you feel comfortable enough with the stout jokester to actually cuddle up to him and go to sleep?

You sat up and were thankfully that your pain had subsided; all that remained was a dull ache that you were sure would follow you for days.

You heard the lock on the door click, and when you glanced to the doorway the portal was filled with Sans outline. He gave you a wide grin. “Hey there, buddy.” He shut the door behind him, his fingers flipping the lock. “How ya feelin’?”

“Much better, thank you.” You replied, kicking the covers away. You had slept in your shoes, and the towel wrapped around your knee was bound tight. Sans quick thinking had stopped the bleed in it’s tracks, thank goodness. The last thing you needed was anemia when you met this high-and-mighty king. The longer you thought about it, the more nervous you became. The warrior that had left you in this sorry state was the leader of his guard, and they certainly weren’t willing to listen to anything you had to say. Maybe it would be better to just go back to Snowdin, ask Sans to take you back to that cozy little house and your baby sibling, and you could find another way to get the two of you out of the Underground.

“So, it’s just about dinner time,” Sans said as he walked over to where you sat on the edge of the bed. It was the first time he had seemed taller than you. If you leaned forward just a foot or so you’d be able to snuggle into his chest just like you had when you slept the day away. “Wanna go grab some grub? My treat.”

Sans held his hand out. He did it as though it was the most natural thing in the world, as if you’d known him for years. You carefully placed your hand in his, your fingertips feeling the bumps and ridges of his carpals and metacarpals, his phalanges wrapping around yours before he tugged you to your feet. Sans took a step back and gave your hand a tug towards the door before letting it slip from his own. You missed the contact.

You were surprised at the size of the hotel as the two of you descended the stairs in silence, walking two flights before you reached the ground floor. There was a fountain in the lobby spraying water everywhere, even causing it to pool on the carpet, with a grand sculpture of a robot in the center. Just across the lobby was a grand entrance and Sans might has well have owned the place with the way he strolled into the restaurant. He gave the host a quick nod and continued on to the back of the room.  It was dimly lit, save for the tea lights in the center of the table, and you were well away from any other patrons. It felt oddly intimate for just “grabbing some grub”. Not that you minded, that was. Was this a date?

‘I hope so,’ you thought, and stopped yourself in  your tracks.

What…what was this? Were you really, truly attracted to a damn skeleton? A sentient, talking skeleton, who wore gym shorts and fuzzy pink slippers? The next time he met your eyes you were sitting with him across from you, his arms folded on the tabletop, one hand idly fiddling with the silverware. He looked up and you quickly looked down to your lap; why did it feel like your heart was trying to beat it’s way out of your chest? What in the world had changed in such a short amount of time?

“So,” Sans began slowly and cleared the throat he didn’t have. “You’re almost at the end now. You’ve come a long way.” The skeleton looked up with you, his brow knitting in an expression you hadn’t seen before. “But, y’know…things aren’t bad as they are, right?”

Your confusion must have been apparent because he pushed on with an uncomfortable grin, a few oversized beads of sweat forming on his skull. “I mean, down here ya’ve got water, food, friends…do ya still really feel like you have to go?”

You can’t answer him. You feel something squirming in your gut. This place doesn’t seem safe for humans, so it was undoubtedly dangerous for Frisk. If you knew Frisk’s safety was assured though…would you stay?

“Ah, forget it,” Sans muttered before you could find your voice. He looked away from you then his gaze distant. And then he started to tell you a story about knock knock jokes, and an ancient stone door deep in the woods. He told you all about the woman who laughed at his jokes. You could feel your throat tighten up as a particular person jumped to the forefront of your mind. Sans told you how this person had made him promise to protect any human who came through that door, and how he had given the mystery woman his word even though he didn’t know her name.

“You know what that means, don’t you?”, he asked, his gaze somewhere far away from you. Why wouldn’t he look at you? What was this feeling, creeping up your spine? “If she hadn’t been there to make me promise? Buddy…”

Your heart nearly stopped. You could feel your blood go cold as he turned to you, those pinpricks of light having vanished, leaving inky black orbs to bore into your very soul.

 

**“Y o u ’d     b e     d e a d     w h e r e     y o u     s t a n d.”**

 

You pushed back from the table, the chair legs screeching across the floor and tipping backwards. Your silverware and empty plate clatter to the floor. You don’t know when it happened, but the skeleton’s eyes had returned to the way you remembered them. He wore a shocked expression, his facade of a grin having fallen away.

“What the fuck?” You look him up and down, returning every few moments to his eyes, looking for any sign of that terrifying being who had made you fear for your life only moments ago. “What the fuck was that about? What the hell are you– Why would you think– What the fuck, Sans?”

You can feel yourself trembling. You can’t seem to stop it. What in the world had happened? How could this be the same person who had taken such good care of you, and been so very careful and kind with Frisk?

“I gotta go,” you mutter quickly, taking a few steps back. “I gotta get Frisk outta here.”

You turned tail and ran with only a moment’s hesitation, catching one last glance at his defeated expression. You didn’t say goodbye. 


	7. Heartbreak

Sans watched you leave. He’d been to this dinner a thousand times before and this was the first time he was left in the dimly lit restaurant. He watched the doors long after you had gone, staring off into space with that same look of disbelief. That story was a monologue at this point. He said it nearly the same every time. The words were second nature at this point. He never had to organize his thoughts, and certainly never explain himself. It was as if Sans was just playing some minor supporting role in some sick stage play.

But you flipped the script on him. You left him at a loss for how to respond and he watched in horror as you recoiled from him. Every inch of you screamed fear. You left without a “see ya later”, and the monster found that telling.

When had he become so entirely viscous?

Was it after the tenth time Papyrus turned to dust in his arms and was swept away by Snowdin’s arctic winds? Was it when the child they had grown to care for on their “good runs” like a little sister had eyes that glowed like blood garnet’s and they smiled when he bled? Was it when he finally came to the realization that it would always be reset and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it?

He knew that didn’t excuse his behavior. Not only had he watched your journey but he had guided you through it. The monster knew you wouldn’t raise a hand against anyone, even when they outright attacked you. You tried to talk your way out of everything. He knew there was no need to give you that speech. He had done it anyway, and in doing so probably destroyed the fragile trust you two had built up.

He knew where you was destined for next. He knew he would beat you there. He knew he wouldn’t have to fight you. None of that bothered him. The skeleton pushed back from the table and shrunk back into the shadowy corners of the restaurant. Facing you again would be hard, yes.

Watching you die, however, would be a thousand times harder.

 

* * *

 

You couldn’t get the image of Sans out of your head. The light-less depths of his eyes had left you shaking in your boots. Hatred had radiated from him, it was so real you thought you could feel it circling your and trying to strangle you. A ball of hot iron formed a lump in your throat as a sob burst from you. He’d been the only person you thought you could rely on. You had placed all your bets on him. And he so very clearly hated you. He had threatened your life.

What kind of sick joke was this?

You tripped over your own feet and crashed to your knees, a pain grunt escaping you. You didn’t rush to get up. You also didn’t bother to stop the tears that had been threatening to spill down your cheeks. You weren’t gonna fight the feeling of hopelessness any more. Honestly, you didn’t think you would if you could.

It took many minutes of just having a good cry for you to feel strong enough to stand again. Sans had been right about one thing at least. Your journey was almost at an end. You’d talk to this king. You were more determined than ever to get yourself and Frisk back safe at home on the surface.

You stood on shaking legs, the ache in your muscles running from the soles of your feet all the way up to your spine. You has to press on. You were so close to your goal. Frisk was counting on you.

You came to quaint home. It reminded you Toriel’s home; there was her chair next to the fireplace, and there were tufts of fur in the kitchen sink. You found a pair of keys and you could feel eyes on you. Everywhere you looked there were golden flowers. The next time you turned around, your goal the pair of padlocks and chain that kept you from descending the stairs, when you were surprised by a Froggit. It began to tell you  a story, and when it decided it had had enough, it hopped away. You started to feel uneasy.

Two more monsters greeted you and continued the Froggit’s story before you reached the stairway. You remained silent as each set of monsters told their tale. None of them raised a hand against you; they simply said their piece and moved on. You pushed ahead, your stomach rolling over as the picture the monster’s painted for you became more clear.

“Aren’t you excited? Aren’t you happy?” They asked you with smiles that made your insides roll like a violent sea.

No. No you weren’t. It was becoming terrifyingly clear what awaited you. You wanted to run. You wanted more than ever to be at your sibling’s side. But you knew if you did that, nothing would get resolved. You pressed on, every inch of you trembling. There had been a note at the entryway to the stairs; “find me in the garden”. You didn’t want to. You were hoping against hope that no one would be there, that you’d be given an out and just walk back to Snowdin.

One last Froggit blocked your way. It said “You’re going to be free.” The statement was so final it sent you running ahead.

You knew as soon as you saw him that this was the kindly king Asgore. He was so calm. He smiled so gently. He greeted you like a friend.

“It’s a beautiful day,” he said to you, his voice deep and strangely comforting. “Perfect day for a picnic.”

You said nothing in return. The next time he turned his gaze to you, it was full of sadness. You felt something inside you shrink away from that garnet gaze.

“Are you ready?”

“No,” you responded instantly, your voice shaking with fear, your eyes stinging with tears that you valiantly held at bay. His smile only became more gentle.

“Neither am I.” He turned towards the distant door. They looked incredibly heavy; intricately carved from stone and towering to the vaulted ceiling. “You’ll find me when you’re ready.”

You followed almost almost immediately. You desperately wanted to explain yourself, to beg for mercy, to explain there was a child here and that they needed to go home. You thought you could change something, anything, to spare yourself.

When you pushed through the doors you were in what looked like a chapel. Pillars set at even distances rose from the tiled floor and became vaulted ceilings like a rain forest canopy. The space was washed in golden light. You move forward, your footsteps echoing through the room, until you skid to a halt. Sans steps from behind a pillar. He’s smiling, as he always is, but it looks painful this time.

“You’re finally at the end,” he whispers, and his voice bounces off the walls. “You made it. And you didn’t harm anybody. Not a single person.”

He tore his gaze away from you. “You’re so close to your goal now. Whatever you do will decide the fate of everyone here. So…” He trailed off, those pinpricks of white light returning to you. “What will you do? Will you keep that human determination of yours? Will you move ahead knowing what’s coming next?”

“I-I’m s-s-scared,” you finally stutter out the reply, a hiccoughing sob forcing it’s way out. Sans expression changed in an instant from solemn to horror. You could feel yourself crying and were powerless to stop it, but you forced a smile on your face. Sans had done it so many times before. How did he make it look so easy? It hurt like hell.

“I’m s-so scared S-Sans.”

He was in front of you a second later, his hands reaching out to cup your face. He was so careful. You could feel him shaking. He tried to wipe your tears away. “Just come home,” he begged quietly, and you covered his hands with your own. “Lets just go home, babe, this never happened, you don’t have to go through with this–”

“I know we can’t g-go home on our own,” you replied thickly. “I know we wouldn’t m-make it through.”

“Stop it.” Sans shook his head hard, his fingertips digging into your tear stained cheeks.

“You promised me, Sans,” you say quietly, your voice getting weaker and your smile getting wider. “You promised you wouldn’t let anything happen to Frisk.”

“Stop it now, shut up, just–” He pulled you down to his level and pressed his forehead to yours. You pressed closer, needing the contact, needing the comfort that simple touch was providing. You could feel him shaking.

“Time to go…”, you whispered and Sans violently shook his head, his shoulders quaking. The skeleton tried to press his skull closer still and you tilted your chin carefully to press your lips to his forehead. You pulled yourself away from him and he struggled to let you go. He followed you to almost to the door at the far end of the room. You turned as you stood in the doorway, holding the door open and hesitating on the threshold. You knew this would be the last time you’d see the short skeleton. You wanted to savor this moment.

“You’ll take good care of Frisk?”

“Yes.”, he replied without hesitation.

“And if they ask what happened–”

You let that thought die between you. The silence stretched and the two of you just stared at each other.

“Ya’know….in another life…I would have loved to spend a lot more time with you, Sans.” You were giving him a genuine smile now, radiating warmth and affection. He looked surprised by the carefully given confession. “I would have liked to call those dinners ‘dates’. If I could just….walk out of all this…I’d say let’s go to Grilbys, but–”

“It’s a date, babe. ” he said roughly, his grin equal measures of loving and pained. “I’ll meet you there, my treat.”

You couldn’t stop the sad laugh that bubbled up from your chest.

When you turned to leave this time you didn’t say goodbye again. You didn’t want to say goodbye. If you kept those words to yourself, maybe you could defy fate for sake of that date.

 

* * *

 

There were six coffins. Each labeled with a different colored heart. There was one empty, a red heart emblazoned on the lid. It put steel in your spine to know that it would be either you or Frisk occupying that box.

You met Asgore at the door. A never ending hallway. A pulse of light that vanished into nothingness.

“Are you ready?”

You replied “yes” softly, your gaze focused on the distance. You knew once the monster king had your soul it would all be settled. The Underground would go empty, the monsters would be free, and most importantly Frisk would return to the surface with her new guardians. Everything would be fine.

As long as you died.

“Let’s get this over with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end!!! This is just the end of the first cycle! More will be coming very soon. Thank you all so much for reading my fic, I'm having a ton of fun writing it! The smut is close at hand btw...next cycle is when we really start to get into it. Thanks all! See you then!


	8. Prologue Redux

Sans woke with a jolt. He bolted upright and was greeted by his dimly lit room. He held his breath, counted to thirteen, and then–

“Sans! You’re going to be late! It’s time for your shift!”

The skeleton crumpled into himself, his arms wrapping around his knees. It had restarted. You were gone. Just knowing you had to die for him to wake up, missing you….

“Sans!” Papyrus called again indignantly from downstairs. Sans heaved a heavy sigh. This was okay. Everything would be fine. You had shown up a few days later than Frisk…three. Three days. He’d get to see you again in three days.

Frisk showed up. Frisk moved on after befriending Papyrus. Snas took the child to Grilbys and went over his usual script, about the talking flowers and how cool his brother was. Cue ketchup prank. Cue “Put it on my tab, Grilby”.

The monster didn’t take time to follow Frisk religiously this time. He waited next to Toriel’s door. The sadly exchanged half-hearted knock knock jokes. The skeleton made his usual promise, to protect any human who came through that mighty stone door.

“You seem troubled,” the queen said, her matronly voice muffled by the door. This was new, but then again Sans supposed he had never been so openly depressed before. He didn’t even feel like he had the gumption to crack his usual jokes.  “I have shared with you, now you must share with me, I insist!”

Sans couldn’t help rolling his eyes, a wry grin tugging at the edges of his mouth. How was he supposed to say no? She was the queen, after all.

“Just waiting for someone,” Sans replied on a sigh, his shoulders rising and falling heavily. “They’re late.”

Sans went home that night and fought to stay awake. He actually took the time to try and read an old magazine. He’d read it a thousand times before and had given up the ritual ages ago, but he had to keep his mind busy. When he wasn’t focusing on the text in front of him annoying thoughts kept jumping to the front of his mind. What if you showed up in the middle of the night? The three days it had taken you to arrive last time had come and gone. Where were you? You had a date to keep.

The text started blurring together. Sans could feel the thin paper of the mag slipping from his fingers. He was just so tired. He set worn magazine aside on the bedside table and closed his eyes. Just a few minutes wouldn’t hurt.

 

* * *

 

Sans woke with a jolt. He bolted upright in his bed, and looked around his dimly lit room. He looked to his nightstand. The magazine wasn’t there. It had reset. He hadn’t even gone to Frisk in the chapel.

“Sans! You’re going to be late! It’s time for your shift!”

The wanted to destroy everything around him. He clenched his fists at his sides as he stumbled out of bed and stomped to his door. Why hadn’t you shown up? What had made your cycle so special? What had triggered your appearance? He was fuming mad. Simply put, Sans felt cheated.

You didn’t show up for this cycle. Or the next. Or the one after that.

Frisk came and went, each run slightly different. Some times they were the sweet child they usually were, but every few cycles they would slip up or get too scared. They’d come away from the ruins with blood on their hands and tears rolling down their cheeks. He’d been as patient and understanding as he could, he knew Toriel’s death in this cycle wasn’t final. Still…a little part of him shriveled up and died inside every time his knock knock jokes went unanswered.

At the thirteenth cycle Frisk came away from that door, stained scarlet, with a twisted grin. The child was not themselves that time around. They took glee in the suffering they were causing. He’d been ruthless that cycle. That was a bad run…

Sans stopped counting after that.

 

* * *

 

Sans woke like any other morning before he had met you. His room was colder than he remembered it. The magazine was absent from the night stand. Another reset. He sat up slowly, rolled his shoulders, and waited for Papyrus to call him down. He waited for Frisk behind his usual tree; not a speck of blood or white fur in sight. Thank goodness. Frisk was back to their usual friendly self this cycle. They practically skipped through their fight with Papyrus, and the following “date” was as entertaining as always. He skipped out on his usual Trombone solo; he was making a habit out of spending his nights at his usual stool in Grilbys, adding bottle after bottle to his tab. Then he’d stumble home, fall into bed, and repeat the process until the next reset came. It was back to business as usual.

He stopped waiting for you at the door.

 

* * *

 

Sans was going to try his hardest this time to pull himself out of this hole he’d found himself in. He didn’t hesitate to tromp down the stairs at the beginning of a cycle. He made an effort to give the kiddo a genuine smile when he snuck up behind them in the forest. Frisk was hanging around longer than the last time around, but they did eventually move on to the Hotlands, as per the norm. Everything kept going “as planned”, not that he had planned any of it.

The monster convinced himself that you were a dream. That for one lucky night he got to feel close to someone. Frisk didn’t have a “big sissy” he would tell himself whenever you crossed his mind. He was too afraid to question the child about you. He didn’t think he could handle it if Frisk started gushing about you like they had the first time you had come up.

No, Sans was just settling into the groove again. He was taking more late night trips to Grilbys, but that was easy to ignore once he’d downed a few bottles of ketchup.

Just a dream. You were just a dream. You weren’t coming back.

‘Of course they were a dream,’ Sans thought lazily to himself as he took another swig from his bottle. ‘They made me happy.’

 

* * *

 

After that cycle Sans started having nightmares of you. He kept waking in a cold sweat, eye socket burning as blue fire manifested from his fear. He’d see you being thrown by Undyne or watch you fall helplessly into the sewers. The worst part was always seeing the unknown. Every time he fell asleep if it wasn’t a scene he already recognized, it was his mind filling in the blank space of your death at Asgore’s hands.

The straw that broke the camel’s back was when you replaced Frisk, a knife in your hand, splattered with blood and a maniacal grin. After that night he did everything he possibly could to forget you ever existed.

Sans dedicated all his time to following Frisk, or working a hot dog stand, or coming up with new puns to tell Tori. If he ever woke up with you on his mind he took his shortcut to Grilbys and would just wait for the hours to tick down until his next shift came on.

After five or so cycles, Sans couldn’t be sure, the nightmares left him. You barely crossed his mind.

 

* * *

 

Sans pushed into Grilbys with a yawn. Frisk was on a good run and was more than happy to spend their time at the brother’s home. All that meant for Sans was no more late night TV. The skeleton went to the second most entertaining place he could think of within walking distance of the house. He was knockin’ out his usual round of jokes and the bar was filled with raucous laughter. He was finally feeling like his old self again.

“So Grilby,” Sans asked as he took a lazy swig of his ketchup, “What’s the special tonight?”

The fire spirit somehow gave the expression of annoyance without and face, making Snas grin widen. There were only two things at Grilbys, burgers and fries, and the skeleton well knew that fact. Over the chatter of the bar he could hear the door creak open, a stiff cold breeze pushing into the warm space. A shiver ran up the monster’s spine. The door shut and the room began to instantly refill with heat.

“Hey Grilby,” Sans began, taking a pull from his bottle, his grin widening. The fire sprite was silent and, ultimately, helpless in the face of his shitty jokes. “How did the skeleton know it was going to rain?”

“‘Cause he could feel it in his bones.”

Sans froze, stiff as a board. That voice….that voice was painfully familiar. He turned slowly and his bottle slipped from his hand, hitting the bar top with a ‘thunk’; it’s contents spilled over the hardwood and dripped to the floor.

You.

It was you. Standing there, just over his shoulder.

It was as if the two of you existed in a vacuum in this moment. Everything around him seemed to fade to black, but you were still there.

“Hey there, stranger,” you whispered, a tremor of emotion running through your voice. You smiled, a motion so sickeningly sweet he wanted to puke.

No. Not again. No more nightmares, please God, don’t do this, no more, stop it–

“I’m here to take you up on that date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for some hurtin', folks. Love y'all <3


	9. Headed for the Hotlands

The skeleton nearly toppled off of his bar stool at the sight of you. You tried to give him a smile once again, but when that same foreign expression greeted you, you retreated inwardly. Something was wrong, this didn’t feel right. Did he not remember you? How could he not remember you, after all of the hell you had been through together? But if he remembered you then why was he look at you as if you had sprouted a second head? **  
**

“Everything okay, Sans?” He flinched away when you said his name. Giant beads of sweat were forming on his domed cranium. He wasn’t grinning however. He looked like he was about to vomit, if that was even possible for a skeleton.

He abruptly stumbled off his stool and motioned you to the front door, pushing through a bar filled with awkward whispers. You could feel every eye in the room on you and the attention left you uneasy. Sans held the door open for you, thank goodness, and you nearly bolted into the snowy road. When you turned around the skeleton’s back was too you, he’s hands planted on the solid wooden door into Grilbys. You could see him trembling.

As he turned to face you, you reached out to tap his shoulder, and he reacted by violently slapping your hand away. He flinched away as though he had been burned. The back of your hand stung where his solid carpals had come into sharp contact with your skin.You didn’t bother hiding your hurt and confusion.

“This isn’t funny,” the skeleton growled to you, and every one of those words was clearly a threat. You couldn’t stop yourself from taking an instinctive step back. “I’m not dealing with this again, this fuckin’ nightmare, capiche?”

“What are you talking about?”, you ask, your voice a mere squeak of fear. You had woke up that morning and, for whatever reason, it all came rushing back to you. You could remember meeting the brothers, running from Undyne, your time in the MTT hotel, and ultimately your death. Sans stood out in your mind above everything else. While your memories had returned to you in sepia tones, everything about Sans was in vivid technicolor; the solid feeling of his fingers wrapped around your wrist, the rise and fall of his chest when you had cuddled up to sleep, the smoothness of his skull when you pressed your lips to his forehead.

This wasn’t the same person.

“I’m only gonna tell you once,” Sans practically spat the words, each syllable dripping with venom. You felt the atmosphere around you beginning to shift  and his left eye socket began to spew bright blue fire. You were fighting your instincts to flee but it was becoming more impossible to stay where you were. “You stay the hell away from me. You stay the hell away from my brother. You come knocking on our door…”

The monster extended his arm and a bone, seeming materializing from thin air, whizzed past your head. You felt a sting on your cheek, but you were too terrified to move. Another shot past your opposite shoulder, catching you off guard and knocking you onto your backside. His anger seemed to fizzle away and was replaced with an expression of shock and worry.

Sans took a step forward and you scrambled backward, the snow making you slip and fall many times before you felt yourself back into something knobby and solid. You felt a pair of tiny hands scrambling at your shoulder and a familiar voice shout out in horror.

Frisk was huddled up against your chest. They was valiantly standing between you and Sans, fat tears rolling down their round cheeks. They held out their arms wide, clearly blocking Sans.  

“Stop it! Stop hurting m-my sissy!”

You felt the solidity at your back side step away. Papyrus was tugging you to your feet, rambling away. You stumbled to your feet and stood on shaky legs. Frisk was crowded against your legs.

“Oh no!” Papyrus cried out and you finally managed to tear your eyes from Sans gaze. “Is that blood? Human, you’re bleeding!”

You raised your hand to your cheek and your fingertips came back warm and red with blood. You only started to notice the sting when Frisk began openly sobbing. You put a smile on your face and scooped your younger sibling up in your arms.

“It’s just a scratch, no harm done,” you finally said shakily, that forced smile getting wider. You found Sans gaze again and he wouldn’t look you in the eye. It felt like something was gripping your heart and lungs. When he glanced over you tried to give him a grin. He responded with a scowl and pointedly looked away. You could feel that phantom hand squeezing tight. It felt like the air was being pushed out of your lungs.

Papyrus offered you a spaghetti dinner and the couch. When you tried to look to Sans for consent, the skeleton had already turned his back on you and tromped back to Grilbys.

Well. 

That could have gone a lot better.

 

* * *

 

You asked Papyrus if you could cook the spaghetti (you knew your stomach couldn’t handle under cooked spaghetti tonight) and thankfully the skeleton eagerly agreed. He was painfully sweet at times. Pap went on and on as you cooked about how you were clearly an expert “spaghettor”, marveling at the way you quickly diced up vegetables and stewed them slowly as opposed to pounding them into smithereens for your sauce.

“You’ll have to cook with Undyne!”, Papyrus exclaimed as you placed three plates laden with noodles and chunky sauce at the dinner table. “You’re clearly a master!”

Undyne…that was the fish woman. The one who wanted you dead, last you remembered. You forced a grin, an uneasy laugh slipping past clenched teeth, before you took a seat at the table to eat.

Frisk started slow with their dinner, just pushing the noodles around, but once the plate was half gone they eagerly wolfed down the remainder. You kept forgetting that their days had mostly consisted of barely cooked spaghetti.

Once the skeleton and child had finished their meal they practically ran into the living room and began laughing loudly over whatever was on tv. You didn’t want to take Frisk away from this; your sibling was very clearly having the time of their life with these dopey brothers. You almost wished Frisk had been comfortable living with Toriel for longer, not that Frisk was used to having a motherly figure.

What would you do? You could clearly recall what happened the last time you had pushed on. You could practically feel the wicked red trident piercing your chest. It was terrifyingly vivid in your memory. The king had run you through, his remorse spilling in crystal tears, and then you woke up at home, in bed, knowing just where Frisk had gone and how to get there. You remembered your adventure, you remembered your death…

You remembered Sans.

What was the point in continuing if the end result was the same? Sans had been your rock before and now he wanted nothing to do with you, that much was clear. So what could you do?

It occurred to you that it was Frisk’s journey to take. Maybe it had all gone wrong because you were not an adequate substitute. The thought of Frisk facing any of the dangers ahead made your stomach roll.

“Frisk,” you called and two heads perked up at the sound of your voice, both wearing the same adorably curious expression. “Time to head out.”

Frisk nodded eagerly and was at your side in an instant. You guessed the child didn’t want to spend the night. Sans had thoroughly frightened them earlier. He had frightened you too, but that was besides the point.

Papyrus didn’t protest you’re leaving; on the contrary, he even opened the door for you both. “Come visit again! I’ll miss you my little human friend!”

Frisks smile was wide as they waved goodbye. The they slipped their tiny hand into yours, and the two of you made your way out of Snowdin.

 

* * *

 

Undyne made her first appearance as expected, except for this time you expected it. A monster child joined you and Frisk, making you an intrepid trio as it were, and knowing where to hide made the experience nearly fun. What had been deathly terrifying last time around was marginally enjoyable this time, and somewhere in the back of your mind you knew that was a bad thing.

You saved the armless monster child without a second thought, practically diving off the cliff to grab them by the collar of their stripped shirt. You hauled them up and the warrior skulked away.

Not much longer now. That gorge where you had been tossed around like a rag doll the time before was just up ahead. Would you have to put up with the same treatment? You certainly hoped not. There’d be no stout skeleton there to save the day and drag your broken body away.

There she was, standing tall and proud atop the mountain ahead. Her armor gleamed in the glow of the cavern light, and she was just as intense as you remembered. It took everything you had to step back and let Frisk handle themselves. And when you did…

You were stunned into silence. The child was nimble, turning too and fro to block oncoming spear blows with an expertise that spoke of years of practice and discipline. You knew that wasn’t true, this was your little sibling; you changed their diapers, for goodness sake, only a few years ago. Watching Frisk now, moving with the ease and confidence of a seasoned warrior, you felt like it had been decades since they were your darling baby sibling.

When Frisk ran, you ran. When Frisk jumped, you jumped. When they stopped, you stopped. And when the flinched away in pain, you felt every scratch and cut and bruise tenfold.

You had finally outrun the fish woman. Undyne collapsed when you entered the Hotlands. Frisk didn’t hesitate to give the warrior a good splash of water. You watched, amused and dripping with sweat, as the commander of the royal guard suspiciously regarded Frisk before walking away in a daze.

A massive building loomed ahead of you. In giant, gleaming letters it read “LAB”. That was self explanatory, you supposed. Frisk took your hand, a comforting weight in the palm of your hand,

Everything ahead of you was an unknown, at least until the end inevitably came. Perhaps this time, things would be different. No one would die, you wouldn’t wake up with a pain in your chest as though there was a gaping hole in your heart…

And Sans would still hate you.

You thought about it for a few moments more as you and Frisk, hand in hand, approached the massive sliding doors. The opened with a whoosh into a dimly lit space that made Frisk cling to you a little closer.

Well, hopefully when all of this was done you would be able to face Sans again and not face a full frontal attack. Perhaps you could patch things up, find out what the hell it was you did to make him hate you so thoroughly.

Perhaps you’d finally get to go on that date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry...this chapter is a little weak. But I've got big plans just around the corner!!! Thank you so much for stickin' with me through my silly little fic <3


	10. Rough Night

The room was spinning. Sans had returned to Grilbys, plopped back onto his regular bar stool and began knockin’ back without a word. Bottle after bottle until the tips of his fingers went numb. No one said a word to him and he was more than happy for it; he existed in his bubble that only occasionally the warm grackle of Grilby invaded. The fire spirit eventually cut him off, once he started swaying in his seat and wouldn’t lift his head from the sticky bar top. **  
**

Good God, he’d just wanted to die, right there at the bar. What kind of sick joke was this? Why were they here? They were a dream, they’d only been a dream, there was no way…but what if you weren’t a dream? What if you had really defied the odds, remembered everything, and found your way back to him? What had kept you apart? What cosmic force had you defied to get back to the Underground? Back to him?

And he’d attacked you.

Sans pressed himself closer to the bar, groaning like a wounded animal. He reached for his ketchup bottle, finding it empty, and tossed it back onto the bar.

What if it was you? What if that one thing he had wished for came true? Fate had given him this gift, and he spat on it and threw it back in the cosmos face.

He made you bleed.

He pushed back from the bar with such force that his bar stool fell over with his butt still planted on it. He spilled onto the floor in a drunken heap, scrambled to his feet, and stumbled out into the relative night. The snow crunched under his feet. The bones he’d shot like arrows at you still stuck out of the snow, grave reminders of what he could have done to you.

When Sans reached his front door he paused with his hand on the handle. You and the kid would probably be camped out in the living room, trying to catch a few Z’s. He knew he was too drunk to go back to Grilbys, or anywhere else in Snowdin for that matter. Papyrus was also more than likely enjoying a deep sleep by this time. He knew he wasn’t composed enough to just walk in and get himself to bed. To be honest, knowing you were in the house, knowing how he had so resolutely rejected, he didn’t have the mettle to face you.

It took Sans all of thirty-three seconds to decide to use that MMT keycard.

The atmosphere shifted, he felt his eye socket burn, and with a pop he could feel at the base of his skull he opened the portal to his secret hideout.

 

* * *

 

Sans stumbled up the two flights of stairs between him and his MTT hotel room. He fumbled around for the room key, his fingers clumsy with his thorough intoxication. He finally found the slippery devil and shoved it into the lock with more force than was strictly necessary. Sans stumbled into the room. He bumped into the same end table he had rammed his gut into when he had carried you in from your fight with Undyne. He didn’t bother with the lights. Once he found the remote he flicked the TV on, the brightly colored bars of “off the air” making him cuss at the inanimate object.

“No rest for the wicked,” he grumbled to himself as he fell heavily on the bed.

This is where you had been pressed so close that he could feel his bones rattle. This was where the urge to kiss you had been so strong that for one crazy moment he nearly gave in. This was where, even though he could feel emotions of affection growing for you, you had made him burn where you touched him.

And he had rejected you outright when you showed up for that promised date.

Sans turned onto his side, burrowed under the musty comforter, and hoped he’d at least blackout if not fall asleep before any more nagging thoughts plagued him.

 

* * *

 

Sans woke to the TV blaring. He curled up under the covers and seriously considered destroying the obnoxiously loud appliance. Mettaton’s metallic voice rang through the speakers. Being the Unground’s premier and only idol the monster’s had. And did he ever love to hear himself talk.

The skeleton grumbled and sat up, the coverlet slipping down down his shoulders. The light was painfully bright. Great, a hangover, just what he needed. Sans stumbled out of bed and kicked open the mini fridge. It was stocked top to bottom with ketchup. Just the thought of cracking open a bottle made him nauseous, so he resigned himself to some room service.

Glamburgers. That sparkling pink bun was more than a little unsettling. After staring at the culinary calamity Sans set aside his meal, untouched. His words kept echoing in the back of his mind; his shameful actions kept making his bones go clammy. How was he going to face you?

“Ah, yes! And what story are you bringing us tonight, darling?”

Sans glanced up, a swear about to slip past his teeth and then–

There you were.

You and Frisk.

The child was petting a dog.

“What the hell?”, Sans muttered, rubbing his eye sockets with the back of his hand. It couldn’t be. What were you doing on TV? You were at home with Pap–

“Everything here is a BOMB!!!” Mettaton said gleefully. Sans thought if he had a physical heart, he would have felt it stop.

The monster was on his feet in an instant, practically pressing his face to the television screen as the studio facade fell away. You looked like you were about to bolt as the robot explained your grim situation that could be summed up as “bombs, bombs fucking everywhere!”

“Shit!” Sans paced back and forth, his eyes never leaving the tv as you darted around with Frisk, disabling bombs as quickly as you could. He’d forgotten about this part. The clock was running down fast and his anxiety went up with every click.  You weren’t gonna make it.  There was no way you were gonna make it. You and Frisk were gonna be blown to bits and…

“Fuck it,” the monster shouted angrily, his eye socket sparking to life. That familiar pop sliced at the base of his skull and he was there in the Hotlands watching in horror as the two of you reached the bomb. The last moments rocked down and then–

Silence. Nothing for several breathless moments. Everyone washed for the inevitable ka-boom.

He could hear a phone ring.

That’s right. Alphys phone call, her sudden “heroism” in the face of insurmountable odds.

Sans let go of a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Thank God. He didn’t think he could handle the possibility of a reset, not at least before he had a chance to apologize. The skeleton sunk into the shadows, knowing he wouldn’t be able to sit still if he returned to the hotel or the house. Tailing you would be easier, at least on his mental state.

 

* * *

 

He followed from a distance. Neither of you ever even turned around. You certainly weren’t concerned about anything or anybody sneaking up behind you.

He nearly needed to tape his mouth shut when he watched you and Frisk get helplessly caught in Muffet’s webs. The child didn’t seem nearly as bothered as you were. Mental note for later; you really weren’t a fan of spiders.

Once everything was cleared up with the spider princess, and the pair of you began moving forward again, Sans let his guard down. You were close to the MTT hotel now, he could feel it in his bones.

You both wandered onto a stage.

Well, shit.

Sans watched Frisk play and dance about the stage as though they truly were part of this sick little play. Knowing who and what was behind all of this made the monster’s bones itch. If resets ever stopped, he really needed to have a heart to heart with Alphys.

When the trap door opened beneath you both and you disappeared beneath the stage, Sans thanked his lucky stones for the second time that day that he didn’t have a physical heart.

He waited for as long as he could manage, watching you and Frisk frantically trying to navigate Alphys impossible puzzle of piranhas, orange scents, and electricity. When you inevitably failed the puzzle and walls of flame began closing in on you, that’s when Sans really started to sweat. They were getting closer than he could remember. He heard Frisk coughing and shouting in fear.

“No, please!”, he heard you cry out. He was moving before he was consciously thinking about it.

The skeleton teleported to you, every inch of him crawling with magic, and before the cameras could even catch sight of him he had you and Frisk in his arms and was spiriting you both away. He didn’t focus on a destination. He just fled.

 

* * *

 

When you all popped back into existence Sans was ankle deep in snow and slush. He had arrived at the banks of Snowdin. He looked down cautiously, but you and Frisk were still curled into each other like you were waiting for the end. Your hair and clothes were singed, your skin dusted from the smoke. You were wrapped entirely around the child in your arms; you would do anything to protect them.

Sans opened his mouth to say something but before he could get the words out your eyes snapped open and you were forcing yourself out of his arms. Sans dropped you hastily, thinking he had frightened you, but it quickly became clear that your entire focus was on Frisk. You stood them on their shaky legs and wiped away their tears.

“Are you alright? Oh lord, pumpkin, are you alright?” Your hands frantically flew over them, checking for injuries, as Frisk just sniffled and shook their head. Once you were satisfied you turned to Sans and the monster froze on the spot.

“Can you take Frisk home?” You asked. Sans stared at you, dumbfounded.

“Home…?”

“Yes, home. To yours and Papyrus’ home.”

The skeleton nodded.

The trio walked in silence, Frisk clinging to their older sisters arm, through the snowy streets of Snowdin. The electric lights made the streets twinkle under their yellow and red light. They seemed deserted for the most part. Had it already been another whole day?

When you reached the front door and pushed into the house, Papyrus leapt from the couch with a joyful shout. First he made for Sans, who he promptly chastised about “not coming home” and “making me go through such worry! Pick up your phone when your great brother calls you, Sans!”

Frisk didn’t hesitate to curl up on the sofa. The skeleton was only to happy to join, only after disappearing into the kitchen for a few moments to reheat that morning’s spaghetti and bring the offering to the child. Frisk ate it up like it was a five star meal.

You sighed and fell back against the wall. Sans shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, his grin widening with every uncomfortable moment that passed. What was he going to say to you? He had to say something. But, “hey, sorry I accused you of being a figment of my imagination and attacking you, my bad” didn’t seem terribly appropriate. To be honest, he still wasn’t sure if you weren’t a figment of his imagination, but after today he knew he couldn’t just ignore you.

“Hey,” you finally spoke up, and Sans practically jumped out of his slippers. “Is there somewhere…we can talk?”

The skeleton nodded nervously, before gesturing to the front door. It’d be easier just to talk outside then to try and sneak up into his room or into the kitchen.

You carefully opened the door, Sans right on your heels, and back out into the Underground night. There wasn’t a soul to be seen.

“Look,” you said began once the skeleton softly closed the door behind him. You turned to face him, a nervous smile pulling at the corners of your mouth. “If you don’t want me here, I understand. But…could you please let Frisk stay? At least for a while? I think they’re a little more shook up than they seem.”

Sans nodded. You seemed to instantly relax, you smile going from on-edge to warm within the blink of an eye.

Dammit, he wanted to kiss you.

“Thanks Sans.” You looked past him, towards the road to Waterfall. When your gaze returned to him he could feel something zip up his spine. It tingled like magic, went from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. You had almost died. You had almost been burned alive protecting Frisk. You had almost died in this place again and…

And if you remembered him, then you remembered it all.

You remembered Undyne beating you to a bloody pulp. You remembered the date where he had snapped and threatened your life. You remembered being run through with Asgore’s trident.

Sans reached out and cupped your face with a shaky hand. He traced one trembling phlange over the pale scar he had left on your face with his reactionary attack. You didn’t even flinch away from him touch.

“Do you trust me?”, he asked, his voice low and thick with emotion.

“Yes.”, you replied without hesitation. He felt a pang of guilt that after he had turned on you so viciously, you trusted him regardless.

He looped one arm around your waist, a soft gasp slipping past those tempting lips. In the space of the blink of an eye you were back in the MTT hotel room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what happens next chapter *waggles eyebrows*


	11. Howdy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So some stuff happens, but more importantly....the tip of the smut iceberg emerges.

The scenery shifted so suddenly you were left dazed, but you could feel the pressure of Sans palm at the small of your back. He was pressed close. You found yourself staring at this monster you thought you knew, with his left eye socket spitting bright azure flame. You fought your instinct to pull away.

 

He opened his mouth. The tip of a bright blue tongue appeared between his rows of teeth. You could feel something doing somersaults in the pit of your stomach. His one eyed gaze was hungry, predatory, and desperately reigned. You could feel every inch of him radiating with energy. 

 

“Is that a trick you’ve always had up your sleeve?,” you asked quietly, as though a raised voice might shatter this moment. Lord how you didn’t want that. Granted, you hadn’t exactly expected this situation, but it was by no means unwelcome. 

 

Sans back up a step and it took all of your control not to audibly protest. You wanted him close. You had missed him once you left, good God had you missed this dorky skeleton who could make you laugh with his shitty jokes. 

 

“Yeah.” Sans shrugged and rubbed the back of his head. Every time he opened his mouth to speak you could see the electric blue tip of that conjured tongue. You could feel yourself warming up with each glimpse, your mind racing with possibilities of what you could with that and what could be done to you. Lord have mercy, when had you become so damn thirsty for a sentient skeleton?

 

You stood in awkward silence, the skeleton shifting his weight uneasily from foot to foot, his fists stuffed into the pockets of his blue hooded jacket. The silence swelled between you, the tension that had been there before robbed by this uncomfortable feeling that was lodged in the back of your throat.

 

“Look, I uh...do you, ah...You wanna order some room service or something? Or I can just, ya’know, run down and grab us some glamburgers or something. ‘Cause you’re right, we need to talk. And I, uh...I really need to, eh...” The skeleton kicked his slippered foot, punishing the cheap carpet for no apparent reason. You decided to be merciful and spare him this awkwardness.

 

“Yeah, food would be nice.” You gave your answer with a smile, hoping to  relieve some of the tension with your levity. 

 

“Okay, yeah.” Sans said with a huff, his shoulders falling with his tension. He even managed one of those fake little smiles that you found broke your heart. “You wait here, I’ll be back in a few, okay?”

 

You nodded and before you could even manage out a thank you he was out the door and out of your sight.

 

You looked around the vacant, dimly lit room before plopping on the bed. 

 

You could hear static coming through the television speakers, cutting in and out. You glanced up…

 

“Howdy!”

 

* * *

  
  
  


Sans was trudging back up the stairs with a bag full of catena food; glamburgers, starfaits, a steak shaped like Mettaton’s face. How was he going to explain himself? He’d swooped in at an opportun moment, after rejecting you so completely, and now he had the nerve to even think about closing the distance, finding out what your lips felt like pressed again his mouth…

 

He shook himself out of his stupor. He had to stop thinking about it. He couldn’t think about your lips, he couldn’t think about your hips and how his hands could run up the curve and further up, how he could pull you close, pressed to you, a knee jammed between the apex on you legs, the noises, oh fuck the noises you’d make--

 

Sans walked face first into the door. 

 

After a few colorful swears to the empty hallway, Sans retrieved the keycard, shoving the plastic menace into the door, and shoving into the room. The bag of food was dripping in glitter, if that was even possible. He found you sitting on the end of the bed, staring at television screen. All he saw was static and whitenoise.

 

“Hey,” he whispered and your shoulders shot up to your ears. He tried not to flinch at your reaction. When you turned to face him you smiled, and even though it was plain to see you were exhausted, there wasn’t a trace of fear. Fuck, why did you have to be so...okay? It was awful, and he knew it, but Sans would have felt a hell of a lot less guilty if you’d just been scared of him or mad at him. But no, here you were, trusting for whatever reason.

 

“Welcome back,” you replied softly before resuming staring off into space. The skeleton couldn’t tell if you were deep in thought or just ignoring him. The silence stretched on for what seemed like forever. But then you turned to him again, smiling sweetly. You reached out to him and it was like he was magnetized, crossing the room to you and taking the outstretched hand.   
  
“Is there a reason we’re here this time around?” Sans flinched, his grin growing wider with his nervousness, an uncharacteristically bright blue hue creeping across his cheeks. One thick, bony hand went to the back of his skull, a gesture so human it made your smile grow.    
  
“Well, uhh…” The monster was floundering, the bright white pinpricks of light darting left and right nervously. “I just...I wanted to….I thought, maybe, we uhm...I really wanted--”   
  
You tugged him closer, those bright orbs of light snapping to you in an instant. A few more beats of silence, the tension between the two of you growing. Then Sans finally whispered to you, “I wanted to make up for lost time.”   
  
He was closing the space seconds later, cold teeth pressing cautiously to your lips. Everything seemed to stop; time slowed, the air seemingly sucked out of the room, all of your confusion and troubles left behind. The skeleton moved to break the kiss but your free hand was cupping his cheek and slipping to the base of his skull. Sans whimpered against your lips before he was wrenching his hands away and cupping each side of your face eagerly. You both held there, savoring this first shared moment. When you finally pulled away, gasping lightly for desperately needed air, you were met with a sight you had yet to see.

 

Sans was missing one of his eyes. Now, there was alway one brightly glowing cyan orb in his left socket. 

 

“Again?”, you asked breathlessly. Sans smirk became predatory, sending shivers up your spine.   
  
“Again.”   
  
Sans pressed in close and kissed you, his teeth parting to snag your lip. You whimpered, an unexpected jolt of pleasure rocketing through you. The monster growled in response, and lord above, was that grin getting wider? You could feel the hard bone of his sternum through his t-shirt, his ribs an exciting sensation pressed to your chest. 

 

“You have to tell me when to stop,” he murmured against your lips, each little nuzzle translated as a kiss. Their gentleness had you squirming and eager for more, his words full of dark promise. “You have to, babe, promise me.”   
  
“Or else?” You asked in teasing, but Sans came to a stop and slowly pulled back from you. Before you could ask why a thick, bright blue tongue fell past his now parted teeth. It was enticing, glowing, positively dripping with what you could only assume was saliva. A hungry whimper slipping past your lips before you could stop yourself, and Sans practically purred.   
  
“Or else I won’t stop.”   
  
You were in for a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say thank you for being so very patient with me. I know it has taken me for actually ever to get this update out and it's short, but I've been fighting writers block and the holidays. I've also been working on a monster of a mafia!au fic with tumblr user goopygaster, so look forward to that. But yeah, thank you so much for your patience! I don't know when the next chapter will come, I'm still fighting this writers block really hard, but I'm gonna finish this story, I am bound and determined! I love you all and appreciate you all so much like wow!!! So thank you!


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